The Prince in Question Is Not Stable

Chapter 87: Opportunity

In the borders of Judea’s dukedom, there was an inn in a location barely anyone visits, but this time, there was a carriage, a royal-looking carriage with the symbol of a crescent moon parked outside their entrance.

The inn had four rooms. Ferrey knew this because he counted them when he arrived, the way he assesses every situation, but for some reason, he had been feeling quite unsettled for a while now.

And that reason was very clear: he just didn’t want to admit it.

He hadn’t slept. He sat in the chair beside the small table. On the table was a cup of tea that the innkeeper’s wife had brought him at midnight, since Ferrey arrived late.

He looked at the window, still dark. Darkness that preceded dawn by maybe an hour. He then looked at the table, and the message hadn’t come.

The confirmation of Ymir’s death has not yet arrived. He dispersed most of the knights to make it easy for the Skopio to do their job; he also remembered how Winifred assured him that Grahm would also be distracted.

But even after that...the job was still not done.

’What is happening...is it some sort of communication gap? Must be,’ he thought.

’There’s no way they would fail, right?’

He ran through the possibilities.

Maybe the operation had succeeded, and the communication chain had broken, possibly because it’s a border village he’s in.

He tried making several excuses to ease his mind, but nothing worked out in his favor.

He was getting restless, tapping his foot on the wooden floor repeatedly. He needed to know, he needed to be there; that’s all he could think of. Because the sun was about to rise, and if he was not found alongside the saintess before the sun rose, then there would be serious problems for him.

Grahm Burnhum had gone to the rift site; the rift was west of Marakana’s Village, and he decided to make a courtesy visit.

’A professional courtesy between a high priest and a tower master, nothing unusual about it,’ he thought.

But it wasn’t really a good explanation.

He picked up his coat from the back of the chair, put it on in one single swift motion, dressing himself in the covenant’s robes.

He walked out of the second room on the left and down the narrow stairs of a four-room inn in a border village and out into the pre-dawn cold of a morning.

The road to the west was empty. His carriage drove at a tremendous speed as inscriptions etched into its walls, wheels and horses sped it up.

He reviewed what he knew. He thought of possible outcomes and how to handle the worst possible situation he could imagine.

He had done that countless times on his route to the rift.

The rift site appeared ahead. There was nothing there now except a scorched patch of ground and the scent of heated, moist mud due to the presence of Burnhum.

And Graham Burnham was standing at the centre of the three carriages, coloured in red and gold. While two of his mages attended to the scorch marks on the fabric with small applications of magic circuits, cleaning him.

Grahm’s crimson hair had the hue of golden fire at the end of strands, his eyes had flames flickering over golden irises.

Grahm looked up when a covenant’s carriage appeared on the road, and despite dealing with an unstable rift, he didn’t look exhausted at all.

Ferrey kept his face normal, getting out of the carriage.

"Tower Master," he greeted.

"High Priest," Grahm said. He was neutral. "You’re far from the monastery."

"I was returning from the castle," Ferrey said. "I thought I’d check on your progress,"

Grahm looked at him, and then his eyes drifted to the road Ferrey had come from, which was east.

The castle was in the west; the border of Judea was in the east. To reach the castle from the east side, one needs to cross a wide river, which is a hassle for someone who travels via carriages, and magic carriages at that.

But Graham kept those thoughts in his mind. He’s a calm man.

"The rift is closed," Grahm said.

"That’s good news," Ferrey said.

"..." There was a pause. The more Ferrey acted friendly and concerning the more suspicious Grahm was turning.

The mages continued their work on his coat, and the sky continued to turn slightly bright.

"It’s time for me to return to the Monastery. Since I was requested by the covenant of her security, you’re welcome to travel with me. I know it’s your priority to keep her safe," Grahm said.

Ferrey nodded and looked at the road to the monastery.

"Of course," he said.

All of the carriages travelled at high speed on the empty road, mainly because Grahm had now instructed not to waste time, and he was suspicious of Ferrey’s actions.

But this time, Ferrey was sitting opposite to Grahm in his carriage, while his own followed their lead.

The dawn was arriving properly, the grey of the night gave way to the first pale light, the village bagan with its morning sounds, women walking to the wells to fill up wooden buckets while children bickered and played alongside.

In the midst of calmness, carriages passed like mad bulls through the roads at a speed that left the villagers stumbling, and small cracks appeared on the cobblestone road.

"How was the castle?" Grahm asked, his voice was heavy.

"I’ve been to many to place specific descriptions to them," Ferrey said.

"Beth didn’t come out for the carriage yesterday, I noticed that." Gram said.

"He had reasons."

"The fifth Prince," Grahm said. "Most people are cautious of him."

"You’ve met him before? The fifth Prince?" Ferrey asked.

"In passing, never faced him directly and had a conversation," he replied.

"Interesting man to have present at a blessing ceremony, not his usual territory," Ferrey said.

"I heard the Saintess requested him," Grahm said.

"Yes, that is indeed the truth. Unusual request," Ferrey said.

"He’s going to be her husband, there’s nothing unusual about it," Grahm replied.

Ferrey didn’t comment on that.

The monastery appeared ahead, the stone walls with the light texture of the pale morning, the broken windows and well-maintained gardens.

The outer gates were open, and two knights stood at them. Ferrey noticed that there was not a single knight in the town. Not even Judea’s knights.

He furrowed his brows; he had put enough time into dispersing them, yet they weren’t seen anywhere in the village.

The carriages came to a halt at the gates of the monastery, and the knights stomped their feet as the mages opened the doors of Graham’s carriage.

Ferrey was the first to get out on Graham’s gesture. They walked inside the Monastery and paused at the sight.

All of the knights, every single one of them. Even the holy knights and Judea’s knights were lined up in the Monastery’s corridor walls.

’What the hell happened?’ Ferrey thought, and looked at the holy knights. They were stiff. Not because of the illusion they were in, but of fear.

They were standing stiff, and stomped their feet once when they noticed both Ferrey and Grahm. But the sound produced was uneven; everyone saw them at a different time, as if their minds were directed to something else.

Grahm kept his quiet and silently walked through the main entrance that led to the prayer halls.

He hadn’t prepared himself for the scene that presented in front of him.

Surrounding walls were the lines of holy knights, more than the numbers that should’ve been, and doors of all the rooms were closed shut.

The dark floors of the prayer halls were covered with the half-dried and rotten blood, countless bodies of men wearing black capes, and not a single head on those bodies.

In the corner sat a man in a similar cape facing the wall, which seemed odd. But the most noticeable thing among all was the central podium, where the white curtains on the podium still held with all the splatter of blood on them, and behind those curtains was the shadow of the saintess sitting in her position on the bed, alongside the Prince who lay lazily on the bed, staring at them with his head resting on his hand.

Grahm stood at the entrance of the prayer halls as his crimson hair caught the morning light coming through the broken windows.

He looked at Ymir, who was staring back at him while the Saintess had her eyes closed, her hands resting elegantly on her knees.

All of the bodies were of men who were contracted to a demon, and all of them were strong. Strong enough to give Grahm a challenge if they wanted, but they were swatted like bugs on the floor with no regard for decency in humanity. The one who did this didn’t just kill them; he never saw them as humans.

But the most worried in the room at this moment was Ferrey, who was constantly staring at the man sitting and facing the wall.

"Tower Master," Ymir said pleasantly. "It’s a pleasure meeting you in person."

"..."

"..."

"..."

’He’s greeting him in such a situation?’ the knights standing on guard thought.